


take me out (and take me home)

by thesarcasticone



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, First Date, Fluff, Not To Be Taken Too Seriously, a valentine's inspired fic, colors themed party, i don't exactly know what this is, is that even a thing?, it's just good fun, sorta - Freeform, who knows - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22514785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesarcasticone/pseuds/thesarcasticone
Summary: Brienne finds herself conned into attending a party on Maiden's Day. Needless to say, the evening only appears to be getting worse as the night rolls along, until a mop of blonde curls suddenly swooshes in in front of her and makes the evening start to spin a different way.Or: Brienne and Jaime bump into each other at a pub on Maiden's Day.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister & Brienne of Tarth, Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Comments: 18
Kudos: 156





	take me out (and take me home)

**Author's Note:**

> I still don't exactly know what this is. I got the idea while I had been getting my nails done and I saw this advert on the wall for a 'colors' themed party which a local pub is going to Hold on Valentine's day. My first reaction was 'ugh, what the hell would I even do at one of those things?' Which obviously transformed into 'huh, what would Brienne do? And, how can I get Jaime to suddenly appear?' and this happened. I wrote this in like two hours. 
> 
> Additional note: this truly is just stuff-o-nonsense, but it made me smile when I thought about it. 
> 
> I call it a colors party, but it's also called a traffic light party. I have no idea what the translation is, but it's basically a party where you dress according to your relationship status: red for taken, yellow for sorta-taken, green for free as a bird. I mixed it up a bit. 
> 
> As always, mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Title from Taylor Swift's Lover (I tried not to, but stupid song just wouldn't let me go when I thought about this).

Brienne had decided she would kill Margaery for this -that is, if she was ever able to find the Tyrell heiress between the hustle and bustle of drunken adults, all trying to either unsuccessfully dance in the narrow spaces between each table, or unsuccessfully fuck each other in between the  _ painfully narrow _ spaces in between said tables. 

She should have listened to her instincts; she had always had  _ good _ instincts. Her father and trainer had always praised such a gift, ever since she had been a tall and awkward teenager trying to qualify for the World Games. Then again, it had been years since she had last fenced -years since she had had to use her body in such elegant and controlled stances. She mostly boxed nowadays, and efficiently delivering a left hook punch to every person who came up to bother her tonight would simply not be of use. She would not only probably end up getting arrested, but with her luck, she would most likely end up getting fired from Greywind University. 

She hadn’t wanted to come to The King's Tavern pub, Brienne always avoided any kind of outing during Maiden’s Day because of reasons like the ones she was being presented with. Maiden’s Day was a joke; a nonsensical, wrong telling of a legend of old which Brienne had once actually liked, but had quickly grown to loathe as she had grown up and come to realize the world around her had decided it would be fun to romanticize and commercialize the once-holy-day into a feast for lovers and fools. 

Margaery Tyrell was close to Brienne in age, yet could not have been more different from her. Where Margaery was slim, Brienne was broad; where the Tyrell heiress was sweet, Brienne was awkward; where Margaery was fun, Brienne was tranquil -at best. Yet they both worked at Greywind University and were currently the only two females on staff at its History Department. And so, although not the best of friends, they were both friendly enough with each other and got along well. 

Margaery was an heiress, the granddaughter of one of the richest and most well-respected Dames of the country. She came from a long line of nobility, and the young woman thrived in both beauty and social graces, all while harboring a talent for accurately remembering key dates and events in  _ westerosi _ history. The young woman truly didn’t need Brienne as a friend, Margaery's circle of friends already being one vast and varied. Yet, the heiress was adamant in her belief that Brienne would come to adore a particular group of friends she always insisted they go out with. 

Adore would have not been the word Brienne would have used. 

A  _ ‘colors’ _ party. Margaery Tyrell had tricked Brienne into attending a  _ ‘colors’ _ themed party; one which Brienne had inadvertently endorsed by donning the color  _ blue  _ (per Margaery’s insistence). 

The first guy who had dared to approach her had been a curiosity, and Brienne had dismissed his offer of ‘dancing’ with a polite enough shrug. There wasn’t enough space for a normal sized couple to dance without hips and other things bumping into each other. She had thought it more than ridiculous for someone to dare to try to ask  _ her _ ; six feet tall and obviously not built for such delicacies. But it was Maiden’s Day and she could observe the fact she had been one of the few women who had remained unaccompanied. 

Brienne could not control the blush which had crept upon her as she took notice she had unwittingly fixed her eyes on the  _ loving _ couple who had been sitting next to their table; their limbs entangled, mouths eagerly devouring each other. Once realization had come upon her, Brienne had been quick to avert her eyes from them, only to have had them land on those of another man, one who had bore a slightly drunk smirk on his face and had been the owner of far too loose hands. She had batted him away with sufficient force to have had distracted Margaery from where she had been enthusiastically dancing with a couple Brienne had never seen before in her past outings with the heiress.

After having had dismissed Margaery’s concern, Brienne had sighed and had fixed her eyes on the too-small table wondering just how long was she supposed to indulge her friend before she could make her escape from the overcrowded pub. 

By the time the fifth man had approached her, Brienne had begun eyeing the people around her with a lot more diligence. She had looked past their odd thrusting and swaying and had taken notice that most of the attendees were dressed in similar outfits -in similar  _ colors _ . And the realization had suddenly dawned upon her: that there were only three prominent colors on display: blue, red and yellow. 

She had only ever attended one other ‘colors’ party held during Maiden’s Day in her life, back when she had been thirteen and had still been naive enough to think she could indulge in the fun and silliness the rest of her classmates seemed to enjoy. 

Same as tonight, the previous evening had ended with her red with rage, and a constricted chest filled with unjust sadness. 

“Margaery!” She called towards her coworker as she caught a glimpse of her again, but the young woman was still too enthralled with the impressively attractive couple. All three wore yellow. 

_ Gods, why am I such an idiot? _

She made her way across the pub, bumping into couples, into threesomes, into something which would have made her blush if she weren’t already red from anger.

She was definitely going to kill Margaery for this. 

She made it to the actual bar with most of her dignity intact and with a full on red and blotchy blush which she hoped would help keep unwanted presences at bay. 

As she sat in one of the few empty stools, she grabbed what appeared to be a menu, but was instead the ‘color code’ for the night. 

_ Yellow. No fear.  _

_ Blue. Looking for my one-and-done.  _

_ Red. Happily engaged.  _

She groaned, loud and annoyed, and motioned for the bartender to come and take her order. 

The young man smiled at her, but Brienne could clearly read the amusement behind his eyes. 

“Got anything stronger than this?” She asked as she pointed to a pint of beer which had been left behind. 

“Give me a second, but um, you’ve got admirers, miss.”

Brienne felt certain she was going to end up punching the next man who dared to ask her for anything. Nevertheless she did turn, curiosity getting the better of her. Or perhaps it was the hopeless romantic in her which, regardless of a life of mockery and disappointments, had never truly died away. 

The thought alone made her give a light scoff. 

She had once believed in the old romances, and old tales of knightly valor and honorable love. She had grown up though. Had learned the world was far more complicated than her original childish beliefs. The world did not always offer you a clear answer, or a clear picture. Men lied and schemed and had fun with one's feelings. Women too. Friends and romances had been but a passing fancy for most of her twenty-eight years of life. 

Brienne had friends, good friends who did not force her to go out on Maiden’s Day to what looked like a fucking orgy; but she was aware they were few and mostly scattered throughout the kingdoms.

Brienne had expected one man to be waiting behind her, instead she was greeted with five. All decent looking, all clearly drunk, and all clearly way in over their heads. 

_ Seven save me. _

“Such beauty.” One called, a red haired man who looked to be older than the rest. As he spoke, another held back a snicker, a blonde with brown eyes and a glazed gaze. 

“Piss off, I can see some of you wearing red, so please. Not interested.”

The blonde one hit the red haired beast and managed to get closer to her, his eyes leering over her entire frame. 

_ If I hit any of them I will most likely be either arrested or fired, and right now I can’t afford either.  _

“Not wearing red here, love. Care to give me your name.”

_ No _ .

“Brianna.”

_ Close enough.  _

“Bullshit name, but I’ll take it.” The red-head insisted. 

“I think it suits you.” One of the men in the back of the group, one with sandish brown hair, kind eyes, and definitely not as drunk as the rest -piqued up. 

Brienne found herself locking her gaze with him. He was not bad looking, but definitely not handsome, and perhaps not entirely a waste of her time. 

She offered him a small smile, a fickle thing which she quickly turned into a frown directed towards the rest of the group.

It was odd, and Brienne would only take notice of it much later; how the second she had given the slight indication of preference, the group was quick to dismantle, leaving the sandish-colored haired man alone to grant her a quick smile and offer her a drink. 

“Forgive Tormund, he comes from a long line of northerners. And Ben is an ass. I keep telling Shyree to dump him, but she completely dotes on the fool.”

He wasn’t drunk, at least not past the point of reason, and even though Brienne was truly not looking for any kind of romantic or sexual liaison, she found herself smiling at him once more. He was a friendly face in between the mayhem which the night had turned into. 

He told her a joke or two, only made her laugh once, but accepted her words of apprehension and never pushed her or forced her to think about second intentions. So when the fourth and still nameless man from his group came back towards them, pissed and ranting about his ex-girlfriend and how Hyle had managed to fuck her before they had broken up; Brienne recoiled and suddenly became far more interested in the little group's history than she had been before. 

“So all hail down to the king of women. Congratulations Hunt! You win! Just like you won Freema! You win this fucking bet! Have fun fucking  _ that _ ! I hope this makes up for her fucking ugly face.”

Money got thrown at Hyle Hunt’s feet, and Brienne could feel her face flaring with unrestrained anger, with all-consuming embarrassment. She felt tears gathering behind her eyes which she simply refused to allow to fall in front of anyone. 

_ I am going to fucking kill somebody for this. _

She was definitely going to punch someone now, Tyrell heiress and her connections be damned. She had just been humiliated like she hadn’t been ever since she had graduated from prep school. Brienne felt her right hand fisting into a ball, but she never got to deliver the striking blow, for another got to the fucking ass of a man first. 

Golden locks swooshed in front of her, making her stumble and reel in back her punch. She  _ knew _ those locks, and those judging and fiery green eyes. Jaime Lannister. 

What the  _ fuck _ was he doing there?

“Lannister!” She found herself spitting out, annoyance in her tone. This was her fight, not his. 

“Guy was out of line.” He offered, flexing his right hand as if he were about to lay another punch to the now squirming man. 

Where had he come from? Out of every person she would have thought to ever encounter inside of The King’s Tavern, Jaime  _ fucking _ Lannister, current CEO of Lannister holdings and current owner of  _ The Blue Knight and Goldenhand the Just’s _ exhibit at the Age of Heroes Museum -was  _ not _ the one whom she would have first picked out. 

“Yes, and drunk.”

He turned to look towards her then; striking green eyes met soulful blue. A gaze as sober as her own, and filled with something which could have passed off as concern filling it. His hair was not combed; it fell freely across his face, framing his jawline and landing just above his shoulders. He wasn’t wearing any of the preferred colors, but donned a white shirt; casually opened at the top, with the sleeves carefully rolled up. The man was handsome, probably the most handsome man Brienne had ever met, yet his arrogance would usually mask his sinfully good looks. But there was no arrogance in his stance, not tonight. 

Brienne had to double blink before remembering where she was, what had just happened and  _ who _ had happened.

“Being drunk is no excuse for being an asshole. Come on,” he said, slamming a couple of bills on the bar, “this place isn’t worth our time, now is it?”

On any normal day she would have scoffed at him and demanded he take back his money. Sure, she wasn’t as rich as him or his family, but she could well afford her own drinks. But the air around her had turned heavy, and her unshed tears still lingered around her eyes, and she truly didn’t feel like answering for the mess  _ he _ had made. So she was quick to follow Jaime Lannister out of the confined pub. 

“What in the seven hells are you even doing here?” She mumbled out, her eyes never leaving his frame. 

“Same as you?” He gestured as they reached the veranda. 

_ Same as- _

“I was conned into coming here by Margaery Tyrell.”

Jaime made a face as he took out a cigarette and offered one to her. She refused, the habit one she had never picked up yet for some strange reason knew it to be his weakness after his failed marriage. 

She wasn’t friends with Jaime Lannister. She didn’t even consider him a close enough acquaintance as she did Margaery, or any of the younger Starks. He was more like the annoyingly handsome curator who would pester her once or twice a month in order to convince her to quit her position at Greywind to come and work for him. 

“And I was conned by my brother.”

_ Oh _ . 

Brienne took in a deep breath, the fumes and smoke of the city serving as her own personal bout of nicotine. If she closed her eyes she could even convince herself she could taste the water in the air coming in from the bay. King’s Landing was a horrible city to live in, small, overpopulated and grim; but it was home, had been for ten years now. Ten relatively happy years.

“So, my outfit didn’t suggest otherwise?” She offered, both scared and intrigued in regards to what his answer might be. 

Jaime turned to look at her then, his green eyes now calmer than they had been right after he had delivered the punch. Brienne could not help but squirm under his gaze, an intense and judgment free stare which she rarely got to see him give. 

For all his cheek and arrogance, Jaime Lannister had truly never exposed himself to her, the same as she had never exposed herself to him. They would normally see each other in a work environment; always protected by the institutions they represented. They both knew such things, same as they both suddenly grew aware of this to be the first time either had gotten the chance to truly  _ see _ the other. No masks, no jobs, no titles coming between them. 

“I thought blue looked good on you, didn’t quite manage to form another thought regarding your choice of outfit.”

_ Oh _ . 

The silence that followed wasn’t a content one, but it wasn’t uncomfortable either. It was something which both needed, and both were more than glad to provide. Brienne took the time to gather her thoughts; she took in several calming breaths, and tried to remember that drunken idiots whom she would probably never meet again should  _ not _ become chains to carry around in her life.

He was the first to break the calming atmosphere they had suddenly created between them, his green eyes calm and honest as he spoke. “I am sorry you had to be subjected to that.”

“Yeah well, the evening is most definitely earning its spot on my ‘worst days of my life’ list.” She offered back, a calm response, filled with a sadness she couldn’t quite keep out from her attempt at a teasing response. 

“Please tell me you at least have one for the best days as well.”

Brienne furrowed her brows as if she were in deep thought, enjoying the way he seemed to match her odd sense of humor; appreciating the fact he didn't press to further question her on her obvious distress. 

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Then I am sorry to inform you, Professor Tarth, but you are most definitely not living your best life.”

It wasn’t meant to hurt; she could see the harmless mirth behind his gorgeous eyes as he delivered the sentence, but the comment did sting all the same. 

“Don’t pretend to know me after barely having met me.” She tried to deflect, the ironclad armor she had carefully constructed in her twenty-eight years of life springing to life in the presence of a threat. 

“I’ve known you for five years, Brienne.” He offered as a response, an amused smirk playing over his lips. 

Her name sounded soft on his lips, or maybe the one drink she had was making her hear things that weren’t there. But Brienne was sure she hadn’t imagined the way his own eyes had flinched when she had argued back. 

“You’ve known Professor Tarth for five years.” She tried explaining herself. 

“No,  _ her _ I’ve only known three. I was fortunate enough to have met Brienne Tarth first, remember? She was finishing school and came to the AOH museum one day, raging we had gotten The Blue Knight’s age wrong. Demanding we change our data  _ -my _ data. I’d never seen such determination, or fury in anyone’s eyes. Never seen such a mesmerizing shade of blue either.”

Brienne could not help it, she blushed upon hearing his compliment and remembering the event. She had been twenty-three, eager to finish school, and had just discovered the museum held a wing dedicated to her favorite hero. She had fumed when having realized they had aged-up her favorite historical character almost a decade, just because she had become Goldenhand’s paramour at some point in history (a fact which Brienne was still adamant to claim was folly, for she still insisted the two had actually married -yet she was still working on how to prove said theory). 

“You did get her age wrong.”

“Yes, and I corrected our mistake and gave you and your island credit for it, as promised.”

Her blush, which had sprung from sheer embarrassment swiftly turned to one sustained by something which she desperately wished to not feel. But Brienne had always had a weak spot for pretty men, especially pretty men who were kind to her. It was one of the many reasons she had stopped outright looking for a date or relationship. Her outward ironclad heart, was as soft as a young girl’s on the inside, and just as easily damaging. It was best if she protected herself from falling, because she knew if she were ever to give her heart out again, she would most probably not survive the fall. 

“And I thanked you. And how is any of this relevant to anything? Look,” she called, taking a step back, distracting herself from his still soft gaze, “I appreciate your misguided attempt at chivalry, but I could have handled those men myself. I thank you for distracting me and for getting me out of there. But this is definitely not how I figured my night would end, and I have no wish for you to waste yours by being forced into pleasantries with me.”

“I’m not being forced to do anything. No one can force me into anything.”

“Except your brother, it seems.”

“He’s my brother, and I did owe him a favor. Besides, the second I saw you sitting at the bar, my evening took a turn for the better -regardless of the unfortunate circumstances in which I had to make my presence known.”

His smirk was devilish and playful, yet his eyes continued to harbor a soft quality about them which Brienne had never before been privy to witness in him, or perhaps had never taken the time to analyze before. 

“What’s your endgame here, Lannister? Because I’ve been trying to get a good read on you for the past few minutes, but it seems I can’t.”

Her question was successful in throwing him off his game, his body suddenly moving away from her, a puff of smoke coming from his mouth as he sighed. 

It was a fair enough question. They weren’t friends, barely acquaintances and yet he had just punched some random guy for being an ass towards her. Even if the insult of wagering on who would be the one to take her home was one of the greater ones she had ever experienced, she had indeed been subjected to similar stances and insults before -even by him. 

He had called her a cow in the beginning, when she had entered his office and had to swallow her shyness and awkwardness in order to make her point clear and unwavering. 

Their relationship truly hadn’t ever been cemented, yet they had both grown to at least respect and even admire each other. Jaime Lannister was arrogant and pretentious and could be childish and impulsive, but he was ruthless at his work and had worked hard to earn the respect of the committees and patrons regardless of his Lannister name. 

“My endgame? Still planning everything in advance, are you?”

And there was the Jaime Lannister, Brienne was familiar with; quick and sharp and always up for a quick bout of wits. 

“I don’t plan everything in my life. It was just a question, Lannister; because I don’t know if you remember this, but you and I are not exactly friends. So forgive me for questioning your motives for punching some random guy at a random pub.”

His turn towards her was quick and sharp and startled Brienne. There was a fire in his eyes, green and wild and for some strange reason, Brienne felt as if she understood him a little bit better just then. 

“I told you,” he spat, ridding himself of his cigarette butt, “they were out of line.”

“So you’ve claimed, Lannister.”

“Jaime.”

_ Huh _ .

He smiled; his stance relaxed, his eyes softening. “My name is Jaime.”

_ Jaime _ . 

And for the first time since she had crossed paths with him, Brienne offered him a smile of her own. 

“You asked me what my endgame was. The truth is I don’t actually know. All I know is that I was about to murder my brother for convincing me to come here tonight of all nights, when all of a sudden I saw you, sitting at the bar, being chatted up by some cad, who obviously had no idea there is so much more to you than your legs.”

“My legs?”

“And my evening suddenly didn’t look as bleak as it had originally done so.”

“Jaime, my legs?”

And oh she would one day kill him for disarming her with a single grin, catlike and so infuriatingly handsome. 

“I think we should at least grab dinner before I finish telling you just what I think of your legs.”

_ Wait, what? Dinner? _

“Dinner?”

The roll of his eyes was frustrating if only because Brienne truly did feel confused as to what had just happened. They had been talking, a shadow of their usual bickering laced in their wording and phrases; she had been trying to understand his motivation for delivering a punch in her stead, all while trying to shake off the unnecessary feelings which had unwittingly been stirred within her because of an idiot’s actions. How did everything lead up to Jaime Lannister asking her out to dinner? 

His eyes never left hers, but they did let a hint of embarrassment escape as he fumbled towards her; an embarrassed look which only made Brienne’s own blue eyes widen in sheer bewilderment. 

“Yes, dinner. Look, I know I am probably not the best-”

“Ok.” She found herself agreeing, because any excuse he would give her would be ludicrous, and because she was not eager to spend the rest of the week going over these past few minutes inside her head, trying to read into things which probably never even happened. Weather Jaime Lannister truly found her interesting enough to ask her out to dinner would be a question she would prefer to have the answer to tonight. 

“Ok,” he repeated; skepticism in his voice Brienne would have had a hard time believing him to posses if she had not heard it herself. 

“Any preferences?” He asked, eyes calm and -excited. 

Brienne bit her lip, because she did not want to get ahead of herself, because she had been burned before, because this still could end up being a joke. Then again, Jaime Lannister did not have a reputation of being overzealous with his life, and she knew him to be honest and honorable enough to keep his given word. He had given her credit in the exhibit, after all. 

“Nothing exotic. Being the youngest person to have made a contribution to the AOH has not come without its qualms.”

This time it was she who laughed at his quizzical expression. 

“I don’t tolerate spices well, Jaime.”

“Nothing Dornish, then.”

He led the way out of the veranda and skillfully navigated them through the sea of drunken people still thrusting and trying to dance inside the suffocating room. His hand clutched in hers came as a surprise, but Brienne found herself not minding the added pressure. 

What in the seven hells had just happened? 

As they waited for his car, she noticed his skittish nature and she could not help but chuckle as she realized he had suddenly turned nervous. 

“Jaime,” she began, waiting for him to turn his face towards her own. “Why now?” She asked, because she had to; because if she didn’t, then they would surely become  _ two _ skittish looking adults instead of one.

“Why not?” His answer was simple and suave, and only served to make her stomach fill with unnecessary butterflies, and her mind with more questions. 

“I still don’t-”

“I like you, Brienne Tarth, have done ever since you barged into my office in your navy blazer and flimsy braid, fuming with anger at my research.”

That had been years ago. 

“I enjoy our brief encounters and please tell I’m not mistaken in thinking you like them too. You’re the only one who has ever been able to actually win an argument over me.”

She did, she did enjoy their quarrels, if only because he always left her with questions she didn’t have the answers to. She had just never imagined their little interactions to have made an impression on  _ him _ . 

“Good to know,” she supplied, her tone breathy and flirty and something which she held no accountability for, not when Jaime fucking Lannister looked at her as if she were the best thing to have happened to him tonight. 

Of course, judging by where she had run into him, she probably had. 

\-------------

Exactly one year after one of the worst nights of her life, Brienne gave out a joyous laugh followed by an annoyed yelp as Jaime’s beard tickled her neck. 

“I thought you liked it.” He growled low against her ear, his tone still making Brienne dizzy with want and wonder. 

“I am a fan of the stubble, not this monster -whatever it is.”

“Come, if we don’t hurry we’ll miss it.”

“Miss what?”

For the second year in a row, Brienne found herself out and about on Maiden’s Day. She had begged Jaime for them to stay in bed for the night; with her new mattress finally being big enough to hold them both without either having to wake up with any kind of spasm. Brienne felt more than eager to break it in. 

His green, emerald-like eyes had glistened with desire as she had bribed him with the promise of a new mattress, but he had been resolute in his decision to go out, and had simply granted her a chaste kiss before proceeding to drag her out of her apartment. 

“The King’s Tavern? Come on Jaime, is this some kind of joke?”

“Exactly one year ago, I took you out on that veranda, where you claimed you had a list of ‘worst days of your life’, and you added said night to it.”

“Not the entire night.” She was quick to correct, for the night had started out as one of the worst, but had somehow ended up being one of her best. She had been deceived, been insulted, she had been on the verge of punching someone and probably losing her job when Jaime had appeared, and more than having delivered a mean punch, had proceeded to find the courage to ask her out. What had begun as one of the worst nights of her life, had turned out to be the first of many charming nights alongside Jaime Lannister. 

Jaime grinned his cat like smile which served to still make Brienne blush. 

“No. But I did ask you if you had a list of the better days.”

“Which I denied.” She promptly quipped back, blue eyes still quizzically looking down at him. 

“Yes. So now, Brienne Tarth, I think now would be a good time to begin said list wouldn’t you agree?”

Oh gods, she was going to kill him. 

Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle her cry of bewilderment and  _ -annoyance _ . 

He stood next to her, a devilish grin on his face, calm and anxious green eyes staring at her as he held out a simple ring out to her -on fucking Maiden’s Day! 

She hit him as she beamed out a smile which she couldn’t contain. 

“Are you  _ kidding _ ? On the most cliche day of the year?”

He laughed, not at all offended by her response. Because he knew her and knew how she processed information; and he loved her and she loved him and by the seven he wanted to be her husband more than anything. 

“Think of it as the anniversary of our first date. Leave the dingy holiday away from it, I swear it becomes infinitely more romantic.”

Tears freely flowed down her cheeks as her hands trembled, unaccountable feelings reeling inside her, threatening to consume her. Gods he was an idiot. Gods, she loved him so much, it was ridiculous. 

“Brienne?” He prompted, noting how she simply continued to stare at the ring but didn’t grant him any kind of answer. 

Blue eyes went wide as she realized she had left him hanging. Her cheeks flushed as her skin heated in embarrassment. 

“Gods, yes. Yes, a thousand times yes.” She launched herself at him, appreciating the fact he was more than strong enough to catch and embrace her. He met her halfway and kissed her just as soundly as she kissed him. 

Tears ran down both their faces, but neither cared. 

“There is no way in all seven hells I’m  _ ever _ going to accurately relate this story to anyone, you hear?

Jaime laughed, loud, joyous and unrestrained as he placed the clear cut diamond ring on her finger. He had figured as much. 

“As long as you do marry me, love. Although I do give you fair warning that Tyrion already knows about this.”

Of course. 

Brienne beamed, grinning a full smile, crooked teeth on display for the entire world to see as she leaned down to plant another kiss on his lips. 

Maybe she wouldn’t kill Margaery for convincing her to go out on that night after all. 

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
